


Practice Makes Perfect

by Cannabelle



Category: Hannibal (TV), King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Biting, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, But only a little, By mostly I mean nearly completely, Did I say this was slow burn?, For a multichapter oneshot, Galahad is a Virgin, Galahad likes it, Hand Jobs, Hannigram - Freeform, He likes that too, I think I lied, I'll add more as I go, It's mostly just smut, Jk only the story plot exists, M/M, Mads and Hugh, Maybe - Freeform, Now for my favourite tag, Oops, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Tristan is mean, Tristan likes this, Virgin Kink, help me, i dont know tags, kind of, kind of?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cannabelle/pseuds/Cannabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tristan is very, very willing to teach Galahad a few more things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I just wanna say that this is my first fic in a long time so be warned. I am pretty happy with it though, so there is that. Please, enjoy.

"Listen, if you're so eager to die, you can die right now-"

"Enough, enough-"

"I HAVE GOT SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR!"

The words had resounded through Tristans' head for the rest of the night, much to the Scout's dismay. The snap hadn't been anticipated, at least not from Galahad, nearly causing Tristan to slice off his thumb instead of a slice of apple. He stared at Galahad, the only hint of shock on his face showing from slightly raised eyebrows. Galahad hadn't spoken since Arthur started speaking, but when he finally did, it was in response to a comment Tristan had made, a comment made at _Bors_ , no less. But still, as unwarranted as it were, the passion and anger thrown at Tristan in the span of a few words had thrown the elder off, leaving him to only stare at Galahad. Only when Dagonet turned to leave had he torn his gaze from the brunet, turning on his heel to follow after. He had spent the remainder of the night packing his personal belongings for the trip and leaving them in the barn they were to meet at in the morning, and when he was done that, he laid under the stars, scanning the dark sky for his hawk, _Isolde_ , for a while before finally giving up and grabbing a few hours of sleep.

The sun had not even broken the horizon when the scout opened his eyes once more, the sound of rustling feathers waking him from a light sleep. "Ah, there you are." He mumbled, voice scratchy from the sleep he did get. He sat up, brushing his braids out of his eyes as he looked at the bird perched on the post Tristan had fallen asleep against. "What'd you do all night, hm? Hunt? Spy?" He chuckled at the light screech he got in response, and he reached over and bumped the hawk's beak with his knuckles before standing and gathering the few items he had with him.

Tristan gathered he still had enough time to grab something to eat, for him and Isolde both. She had started pecking at his hands whenever they were near, a sign that she was hungry. "Didn't you eat already?" He scolded, earning a flap of the wings against the side of his head. "Yeah, yeah." He made his way over to the storage area, eyes flitting around and seeing no one. Not that he would get in trouble for nicking some food, it was just in Tristans' nature to be sneaky. "Patience." He scolded once more, as Isolde started nipping at his ears in excitement when he pulled out some raw chicken. "Yeah, here ya go." He hummed, lightly tossing the meat up so Isolde, perched on his shoulder, could catch it. He fed her all the chicken, letting her look around his hand to show there was none left. "Alright, out of here, you. Don't go too far." He said, lifting his arm and watching her take off.

The scout started making his way towards the barn, slicing off chunks of apple to eat with his bread, intending on biding his time there. He was nearly there when he heard noise. He stopped dead in his tracks, immediately assessing where the noise came from. He relaxed slightly, realizing it was coming from the training yard. Curious, he followed the noise, wondering who he would find training at such an early hour. It could be Dagonet, he took his training fairly seriously. It could be Lancelot, up after romping about with a pretty wench. But Tristan didn't even have to wait until he was by the fence of the yard to know that it was Galahad. He could hear the young man's frustrated growls, grunts and half yells as he swung his sword repeatedly at the dummy, chipping away at the wood. He almost calls out to him. Almost.

Instead, he leans against the fence, eyes tracing Galahads' body, looking at his form, his stance, the power of his swings. He was always changing, always adapting his technique, Tristan noticed, even he had a hard time predicting where the younger's feet would step, which direction his sword would swing. Absently, Tristan sliced another bit of apple, slipping the piece into his mouth as his eyes raked over Galahads' lithe form.

For a man who claimed not to like, nor trust the Romans, Galahad was certainly alright with looking like one. Dark, curly hair, though more wild and unruly than most, framed an angular face that would look more boyish had it not had a thin beard. He was pale too, like most of the Romans Tristan had seen. The clothes did nothing to help, the pup preferring to wear short tunics in favor of breeches. Tristans' eyes lingered over the exposed flesh of Galahads' legs, and found himself wondering _why_ Galahad wore them. Was he trying to get attention? Maybe Galahad the Pure, was not so pure? His tongue flicked out at the thought, wetting his lips as his mind started to wander. Before he could get too far into his mind, though, he was forced out of his trance, his eyes [reluctantly] moving from Galahads' legs when he heard a rather hostile voice.

"What do _you_ want?" Galahad had noticed him, and had stopped practicing, and was now sporting quite the scowl. It did look rather cute, if Tristan was being honest. Even from where he was, the scout could see the young knights chest heaving, see a bead of sweat drip down his neck. He could see the flush on his cheeks at being caught beating a defenseless piece of wood to a pulp.

Tristan almost answered, almost casually responded with "Just passing by on my way to the barn," or some deviation of that. But he had picked up on the accusatory, hostile tone in the others voice, as if he expected Tristan to be there just to make his life a little more difficult. Tristan tilted his head, eyes narrowed slightly. Galahad was poised, still in attack formation, sword arm at the ready by his side. His eyes were angry, fixed on Tristan with so much anger that it rivalled his passion from the night before. The kid was trying to pick a fight.

"Why so hostile, pup? Afraid?" A slow smirk crawled across Tristans' face as he easily hopped the small wooden fence, taking a few paces towards the bristling knight.

"Don't _call_ me _that_." He seethed through clenched teeth, his fingers tightening around the hilt of the sword. "And _no_ , I'm not afraid. Not of _you_." He sneered, trying to get a rise out of Tristan.

"So you're afraid of dying." came the simple reply.

That was most definitely the response that Galahad wanted. The younger dropped his sword and stomped up to the scout, so angry that he was almost shaking. He didn't even bother trying to get Tristan to attack first. " _You_ may not have anything to live for, _scout_ , but I can assure you, I do. So no. Dying by a Saxon is not really high on my priority list." he hissed, eyes blazing with more than just anger at this point. Galahad had never spoken to Tristan this way ever, much less a second time in one night. Tristan could see a glimmer of underlying apprehension, nervousness, now that he was yelling at his elder without the influence of alcohol. Galahad did not know Tristan well enough to read him, despite all the years they had spent in each others company, and that unsettled him.

"I can assure you, _pup_ ," He enunciated the word by closing in on Galahad, head bending down to look down at the other. Galahads' head was forced to bend back slightly, but his gaze never wavered, he gave no ground, though he did bristle at the name, "I have _plenty_ to live for. As I have said... If you are afraid to die, to lose your precious _freedom_ , then **stay. Here.** "

Those words seemed to do the trick, and Tristan had to fight off a grin as he ducked a swing from Galahad. "I AM _NOT_ **AFRAID** TO DIE!" the smaller man yelled, barely giving Tristan time to take a step back. Galahad followed, taking another swing that caught Tristan in the jaw this time. His head turned at the force of it, and he felt his lip get sliced by his canine. Next came a shove, and Tristan let out a grunt as his back hit the wooden barrier. He was quick to recover, though, and he caught the next swing in his hand. In a quick flurry of movement, Tristan had Galahads' arm twisted behind his back, pushed high enough that the younger had to stand up on his toes to alleviate some of the pressure.

"Then what _are_ you afraid of, if not me?" Tristan hummed beside Galahads' ear.

" _Fuck you!_ "

Tristan ignored the gasp of pain from Galahad as he forced the arm into a higher position. "I don't believe you're in the position to be talking to me like that, _boy_." Tristan hissed into his ear, delighting in the shiver that the other desperately tried to repress. He couldn't help but inhale slightly, taking in the scent of the soap the other had used in the bath when they had arrived the previous day.

But Galahad was stubborn, and often had a loose tongue. " _Ugh_ , don't you ever _bathe_?" He said, disgust lacing his tone as he struggled in the scout's firm grip. "Do you _try_ to smell like a pile of-mnn" A tanned, dirt covered hand covered Galahads' mouth, also forcing his head back to look back at the older knight. Tristan smirked as he felt the other grimace under his dirtied hand.

"You and I both know that it helps me hide from those I hunt." Tristan leaned down, nose just above Galahads' ear as he took a deep, deliberate inhale of his curls. "Unlike you. Your perfumed ass would scare away all the prey, or alert enemies, if you were to go scouting." He teased, pushing Galahad into the fence, forcing him to bend slightly at the waist where his hips came into contact with the horizontal log. Galahad, frozen in his arms, just made a small choked sound at the back of his throat. Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but instead gave a small grunt of pain as he snatched his now bloodied hand away from the smirking Galahad, who had already hopped the short fence. "I guess I don't taste that bad, hm?" He smirked at him, watching his face turn a delightful pink, before the lad turned and headed towards the barn.

Tristan watched him go, then looked down at his hand. He grinned, pressing his lips to the wound and swiping his tongue across the clear indents of Galahads' teeth, tasting his own coppery blood mix with a very, very faint hint of figs that Galahad must have had for breakfast. He pushed himself off the fence and headed to find something to wrap the slowly oozing wound on his hand. Fucker had bitten deep.

The sun was finally starting to break the horizon when Tristan finally started heading towards the barn again, the sky fading from an inky blue-black to a soft orange. The few apples he had snagged were gone now, his knife cleaned and tucked away as he carried the bag and sword that Galahad had left behind in his escape. Dark brown eyes settled on the knight in question, who was vigorously brushing down his horse. Gawain and Lancelot were in the barn as well, talking amicably about the weather. Tristan strode into the barn, giving a short nod in greeting to the other two men, right towards Galahad. The younger knight bristled, stance immediately turning defensive. Tristan smirked when he stood in front of him. "Your bag."

" _What?_ "

"Your bag." Tristan repeated, holding out said object, sword resting atop through the straps. Galahad regarded Tristan with a wary glare, eyes flitting to the other two, who seemed completely oblivious to their situation. He made eye contact with Tristan again and reached for his bag, only to have Tristan pull him close so he could speak lowly into his ear. "Keep your back straighter, and your feet spread more firmly apart. Otherwise, your stance is improving. Your punches have gotten stronger too. Good work, pup." He commented, hand releasing the bag and letting it fall through the fingers of a very thrown off Galahad. He walked passed him then, leaving the boy to recover himself and pick up his bag and sword. He turned, giving Tristan a confused look. Confused and... proud. Tristan didn't just hand out compliments, in fact, that was probably the only compliment he had ever given the lad.

Tristan settled up on a more elevated platform, feeling Galahads' eyes on him the whole time, where he had put his bags the night before. As he sat and got started sharpening his sword, there was a loud screech as Isolde swooped into the barn, scaring Gawain. "Bloody bird'll gimme a heart attack, I swear." He muttered, throwing a glare at Tristan, who smirked. Isolde was followed by Bors and Dagonet, talking lowly about what they would do when they got back. It was not as happy a conversation as it had been the previous day, but they were trying to make the best of it. Soon, all of the knights were present, save for their commander.

By the time Arthur did arrive, Galahads' pride at Tristans' compliment was gone, and he was furiously pacing back and forth on his horse, impatiently waiting for their leader so they could embark on this less than wanted quest. Tristan watched the younger out of the corner of his eye, his hands keeping busy as he sharpened his blade. Finally, Arthur was strolling in, soon followed by Bishop Germanus, and their... new companion, Horton. Less than an hour later, the group of them set off, heading north of Hadrian's Wall.

It was a fairly straight forward ride for the majority of the next few days, almost no problem until they had come to a thick forested area on the third day of travel.

They were everywhere, Tristan noticed with a sudden clench in his stomach that he was not used to feeling. They were completely surrounded by Woads. Tristan had barely had time to warn the others of the presence, simply stating that they were _everywhere_ , before arrows were shot, pulling vines across the trees and blocking their way. The Knights turned on their horses, thundering down the only available path to them. Tristan could see the blue bodies of the enemies flying through the trees around them. He growled. "Arthur!" But the man couldn't hear him. They were being led. Herded.

And then they were trapped, Woads at their back, vines at their front. Tristan had just considered cutting them down with his blade when a dozen or more Woads appeared on the other side, cutting that idea right out. Instead, Tristan readied his bow, waiting for the command from Arthur. All the Knights were on edge, ready to attack when their leader told them to. The Woads seemed ready as well, and one almost attacked before there was the sound of a deep horn in the distance. The surrounding Woads all looked at each other, confusion and questioning. The leader, who Tristan now recognized as the Woad Arthur had released before they had returned to the Wall, kept Arthur's gaze until, finally, he drew back, signalling to the others to retreat. And just as soon as they were surrounded, they were alone, not a Woad left in sight.

It took a few minutes for any of the Knights to move, eyeing the surrounding forest with caution as they did. "Alright. Lets go, men. We will leave this part of the forest, then camp for the night."

Tristan did not agree in the slightest. They should keep moving until out of the forest, and he brought up as much to their leader, only to be waved off. "If they were going to kill us, Tristan, they would have done it." The response caused Tristan to suck his teeth, giving a nod despite his disapproval, and leave to scout ahead for a decent camp area.

Later that night, after camp had been set, all of the knights were gathered around the fire for dinner. Tristan shook his head as he ate, recalling the evenings events. None of them yet knew why the Woads had spared them, disappearing back into the shadows of the trees as the horn blew in the distance. Tristan was sure it was a tactic, that they were going to attack later tonight. He had brought this worries up to Arthur, and the general had only told him to scout around their camp so as to make sure there were no enemies watching them. Their commander seemed a lot more at ease about the situation that Tristan himself felt, and the scout knew he would be getting no sleep tonight as a result. He got up, and decided to go scout the area once more.

A few hours had gone by, before Tristan had realized. He had gone around the camp several times before, begrudgingly, admitting that Arthur may have been right. <aybe there were no enemies this night.

Skirting a large oak, Tristans' eyes scanned the area, seeing nothing at all in the dark forested area around their camp. He could hear the other men at the camp, Bors' raucous laugh echoing between the trees. Tristan was about to turn around, to head back to camp, when he heard the snap of branches. Quietly, he pressed himself against the tree, peering around the trunk to see what caused the noise. Immediately his shoulders dropped from their predatory hunch, relaxing as he saw a familiar knight sneaking through the underbrush. "Where did he... No not this way. That was me.." Tristan heard the lad mumbling as he examined a broken branch. Tristan had to duck quickly, barely getting out of the way as Galahad passed the oak Tristan hid behind. "Damn it." He cursed under his breath, hands on his hips as he surveyed the area. "I _know_ I saw him around he-HEY-Mnmm!!" Galahad was cut short by a familiar, strong hand clasping over his mouth. This time, though, instead of a fence, Tristan slipped his arm around his waist to brace him.

"Oh, look, pup. You found me." He smirked, eyes meeting with Galahads'. He saw the recognition in the young knights eyes, followed by the draining of the fear and replacement of relief. He squirmed and grabbed Tristans' hand, pulling it off of his mouth.

"Jesu- You scared the shit out of me!" He hissed, blue eyes locked with amused brown.

"You were looking for me?" Tristan inquired, tightening his grip ever so slightly when Galahad moved to step away from him.

"I-Yeah. I guess. I was ...er... " He faltered, cheeks tinging pink once more under his scruffy beard. "I was practicing my tracking." He admitted, looking at the leaf covered forest floor.

Tristan raised a brow, surprised at the others' answer. "Tracking, hm? How long were you following me?" He asked, curious. He had been out of camp all evening, and he did not leave much of a trail behind him. For Galahad to accidentally stumble across a trail made by the scout was highly unlikely.

Galahad preened at his words. "Since you left camp. I saw you leaving, and it took a while to find you. But I did, after about an hour. Then I lost you again, about twenty minutes ago. But I found you again."

Tristan had to hide his surprise once more. The lad had been tracking him for the better part of three hours, then, and fairly well, at that. Tristan took pride in his sneakiness, so knowing that this pup had followed him, well, that took talent. "Is that so?" he responded, smiling. "Well I think that deserves a reward... Don't you?" He asked, his calloused hand landing on Galahads' exposed thigh. He felt the other stiffen, a small gasp being all the noise that came from him. He didn't move, though, spurring a curious scout to slide his hand upwards, slightly bunching up the light green tunic. This seemed to snap him back into his mind.

"Wh-what are you doing, Tristan?" Came a hesitant question, though the young knight made no attempt to move. Tristan just chuckled in response, pressing his nose to the inside of the other's neck, eliciting a small shiver from him. Tristan bared his teeth, sinking them into the soft, warm flesh of his neck. He didn't bite too hard, just enough to get a small, half pained groan from Galahad. "T-Tristan, stop. This isn't f-funny-Ahh.." Galahad bit his lip when Tristan bit once more, following this bite with a swipe of his tongue. The elder took a few steps backwards before turning them, pressing Galahad face first into the wide oak he had hidden behind.

"Not many people can track me, pup. I am just giving you the reward you deserve for completing such a task. " He murmured huskily into the others ear, which turned pink in return. Rough, dirty hands gripped at the creamy exposed flesh of Galahads' upper thighs, bunching the tunic up around his hips. "Cute little ass you got here, sharing it with anyone?" He teased, earning himself a withering look from the smaller male. "I take that as a no." Tristan said, locking eyes with Galahad as he slowly dragged his tongue across his lower lip. This was even better than Tristan had originally thought.

"Fuck off!"

"Shush."

Galahad was a virgin.

Galahad the Pure was... just that. Pure.

Tristen groaned at the back of his throat, setting to work at leaving a trail of blossoming bruises across the pup's throat. Galahad still fought a little, half hearted as it was, biting his lip to restrain the pathetic whimpers. Weak hands gripped Tristans' wrist as his hands slid higher, in a small attempt to stop him. "N-No don-"

"Shush." He said again, lips pressed against his ear as he breathed the words hotly. This caused a tremor to go through the younger's body, and his grip loosened on Tristans' wrist. Immediately Tristan moved, swiftly removing the others subligalcum and dropping it. There was barely a word of protest before his large hand closed over Galahads' already hardening cock, giving it an experimental squeeze. The resulting keen from the younger knight caused Tristans own cock to stir, though he ignored it for now in favor of rewarding his little pup. "That's it.." He murmured, grinning as Galahad started thrusting his hips forward into Tristans' fist. "Tell me, who else has touched you?"

"N..No... No one.." Galahad panted, head falling forward so his forehead was against the rough bark of the tree. "I haven't... Not with... A man..." His breathing was already coming in shallower breaths. Tristan smirked at the information, letting his hand move in smooth, fluid motions. He tugged and stroked, swiping his thumb over the now leaking head of his dick. "Ahh...T-Tris..." Galahad released Tristans' wrists in favor of gripping the scouts sleeve with one hand, the other resting on the tree to hold himself up better.

"What is it, little one? Are you close?" He whispered, teeth grazing the shell of his ear as he spoke. He received a breathy moan, and a small nod of the head in response. The other was trembling in his arms now, probably so close to relief it was painful. His hips were bucking in earnest now, none of him resisting Tristans' touch.

"M-More... So clo-aahh.." His breath hitched as Tristan reached down with his other hand to stroke teasingly at Galahads' balls. "T-Tristan!" He thrust his hips forward, moans falling from his lips in a constant stream now.

"Shhh, pup." Tristans words seemed to have the opposite effect, Galahad letting out another louder moan when he spoke. His breathing was broken, hitching as his oversensitive body was overstimulated.

"T-Tris-"

"I know." He murmured, teeth sinking down into his neck. He barely lifted his hand to cover Galahads' mouth in time to block the scream of pleasure as Galahad came, shooting thick ropes of cum all over Tristans hand. The elder continued stroking, milking the younger knight for everything, leaving him to tremble pathetically in Tristans arms. After a moment, he let go of his softening dick, and lifted his hand, making eye contact with the other as he licked it free of Galahads' cum. This caused the other to go a bright red and turn his head a he caught his breath.

It took a few minutes, Galahads' labored breathing being the only noise other than the light breeze through the leaves of the trees, for the young one to finally straighten up. He pushed back against Tristan as he did, and Tristan let out a soft groan as he felt the other press back against his cock. Galahad seemed to freeze once more. "U-um... I don't know what to-"

"Don't worry, leave it to me." Tristan said, spinning Galahad around to face him. The boys eyes were wide, cheeks flushed as his chest still heaved. He leaned down, going in to press his lips against Galahads' when he heard a voice.

"Galahad! _GALAHAD,_ are you out here?" It was Gawain.

Tristan and Galahad froze, eyes locked and lips inches from each others, Tristans' arousal pressing insistently into Galahads' hip. Another moment, and Gawain was calling again, albeit a bit closer this time. Tristans' eyes narrowed, but he took a step back, allowing Galahad to stand on his own. "Better go to him, or he will come to us." He said with a forced smile.

Galahad hesitated, looking from towards where Gawain's voice came from, back to Tristan and the bulge barely visible through his baggy clothes. After a moment, he nodded, smoothing out his tunic and heading towards Gawain, not even looking back once.

Tristan sighed. He had a long, unfulfilling night ahead.


	2. The Wind Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galahad tries to make Tristan feel better.
> 
> or
> 
> Im just really, really bad at summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look who was busy enough to do two updates in one week? THIS PERSON HERE.
> 
> I hope this isn't too long and rambly and shit idk.

Galahad was up later than everyone else the following morning, having slept past both breakfast and packing up their temporary camp. All that was left was his own bedroll that he quickly rolled up and packed up on his horse. Gawain, knowing his friend, strolled over and held out a small half loaf of bread and a flask of water. "Morning." Gawain grinned. Galahad just nodded, snatching the offered food and drink while not making eye contact with the knowing blond.

It had been stressful, to say in the least. He had spent the better part of the previous evening tracking that damned scout, just to prove that his ' _perfumed ass_ ' would not give him away. Needless to say, he had found him. Or rather, Tristan had found _him_. Then... Galahad shook his head. What the hell had that even been? Tristan had never shown any interest in anyone in their party before, let alone the youngest knight. He had almost been relieved when he had heard a drunk Gawain traipsing through the forest to find him. Almost. He had been relieved up until, with a dark blush spreading across his cheeks, he had realized that his subligalcum was gone. Nude under his tunic, he had desperately tried to get away from Gawain, who had none of that. He had been forced to drink with his friend, until a loose lipped Galahad ended up spilling everything that happened to his blond friend.

Galahad tore into the bread, earning a raised brow from Gawain. "And after that you might wanna..." Galahad looked over when he stopped, noticing he was gesturing to his neck. Galahad looked confused, looking down, but he could not see his neck. "You have bruises _everywhere_." Gawain sniggered, easily ducking the flustered punch aimed his way.

"I do _not!_ " Galahad paused, shuffling awkwardly. "Do I? Oh fuck.." He shuffled through his bag nervously, looking for anything to cover with. "Shit _shitshitshi.._ " He was suddenly silenced by a thick black cloak being tossed at him. He held it up and looked at Gawain, who shrugged.

"You left it in my room before we left the Wall." He said.

Galahad nodded, smoothing out his cloak and sighing as he did. It still had a hole in it, near the bottom where it had caught on a Woad sword in their last battle. He would have to fix it, or get a new one soon. Lowering the fabric for a moment, Galahad held a hand over his neck, glancing fretfully around the camp. The other knights were busy, Bors and Dagonet saddling up their horses, and Lancelot and Arthur already on theirs, chatting quietly. Horton and Jols were also saddling up, leaving Galahad to be the only one who was not yet ready. The only one he couldn't see was-

"Tristan left before dawn to scout ahead and see where the Saxons are coming from, exactly." Gawain said, earning him a small glare from Galahad. He held up his hands, grinning. Galahad shook his head, finishing off the bread. "I got your horse ready too." Gawain added in a softer, less teasing tone as he put out the last of the fire.

"Thanks Gawain." He mumbled, looking at the cloak before he shook his head and fastened it over his shoulders. He did it in such a way that most, not all, of his bruises were covered. All Galahad could hope for was that Bors or Lancelot would not notice the small blemishes. Jols wouldn't care and Arthur was respectful enough not to say anything even if he did notice. But Bors was vulgar, and he and Lancelot _loved_ to tease their little Galahad the Pure. Bors would comment on the marks themselves, but Lancelot, he was _perceptive_. He would ask _how_ he got them, when they hadn't seen any maidens in at least three days. And Galahad did _not_ want to deal with a situation like that. He mounted the horse, shifting to get comfortable on the beast, and looked at Gawain. "Thanks." He said again, meaning it this time. The blond knight just nodded with a small smile.

Arthur called out to his knights, getting their attention before they set off. "Knights, if we keep to our predetermined course, we should arrive at the Roman Estate by late morning."

"Fucking finally." Bors grunted, nudging his horse into a trot towards their destination. It was a bleary morning, dark grey clouds covering any possible sunshine that may have peeked through the curtain of the forest. They followed single file down the thin path through the remainder of the forest. It didn't take long at all, the path opening into a broader one, the trees thinning out until you could see the mountains on either side of the valley. According to Arthur, Estate should be in this same valley.

Now that the path was wide enough, Gawain slowed until he and Galahad were trotting side by side, as per the norm. They didn't speak, just sat in amicable silence, listening to Bors and Lancelot argue, and Horton reading passages of the Bible aloud. Although the latter did not last long, Gawain growing tired of the secretary's monotonous reading and threatening to allow him to meet his God if he read one more passage. Horton looked mildly horrified before snapping his book shut and looking ahead silently.

"Lucky Arthur didn't hear you say that. He may have scowled at you." Galahad said, casting a sidelong glance at his friend. He got a mischievous smirk and shrug in response. Galahad heard a shriek that sounded rather familiar and looked up, seeing a hawk circling high above them. "Is that Tristans' bird?" He asked, glancing around them, looking at the nearby trees and structures and wondering if Tristan was lurking in or around any of them.

"Dunno. Probably just a wild bird." Gawain shrugged as the two watched the bird fly off in the direction their party was headed, before veering off and disappearing into the low clouds.

They set the horses into a gallop after that, Arthur saying they were close enough for the horses to easily make it. There were more structures appearing now, little hovels and farms, fences holding animals. They fell more or less into a line again, Arthur and Lancelot leading, followed by Bors with Dagonet right behind. Galahad managed to stay in front of Gawain this time, with Horton and Jols bringing up the rear as they rode up to the Estate.

Galahad pulled his horse to stop with the others, looking around at the villagers that started surrounding them, seemingly in awe. He missed the beginning of the interactions, coming to attention when the Lord reached for his horse. Galahad reacted instinctively, jerking the reins and pulling the horse out of his reach with a glare. He watched the talk between their commander and the Lord silently, looking up when the Lords' son announced his presence. The Lord attempted to refuse, and that this land was given to him by the Pope, as if that would have changed anything.

"Well you're about to give it to the Saxons."

Again, they were met with refusal. With each attempt at persuasion, Arthur looked more and more irritated. Finally, the Lord looked at the surrounding villagers, lashing out and telling them to get back to work. Galahad raised a brow, moving his horse aside as a guard pushed past him and started shoving at the civillians, being more rough than necessary.

Finally their commander, seeing the villagers being mistreated as such, had enough and got off his horse. Galahad had to supress a grin as Arthur blatantly threatened the Lord, before informing the Lady of their hunger. After they retreated into the manor, Arthur turned to them.

"Come. Let's go, hm?" Bors said to Arthur, knowing his attempt was futile. Their friend looked around them, at the villagers, at the poor state of their living.

Galahad knew what he was going to do before he even moved. He sighed, watching their commander get his sword and head towards the villagers.

"Sir, are you from Rome?" A man asked Bors after the knight had gotten off of his horse.

"I'm from Hell."

The man looked at Bors in horror as he walked away, before looking up at Galahad, who hadn't left his horse. Galahad didn't speak, just glared at him in response until he scurried away. Galahad looked towards Arthur from his horse, the rest of the Knights on the ground between where he was and where the rabble was.

Galahad listened to Arthur speak and with each word he felt a growing sense of dread. "No.." He murmured to himself. Arthur was going to bring the villagers. He knew before Arthur even said the words. This just increased their travel time threefold, while cutting their chances of survival in half. Now they didn't have to just move a small family. They were saving a small village.

The villagers did get ready surprisingly quick though, Galahad noted with a small sense of satisfaction. They at least understood how dire the situation was. It was not even yet noon and they had a small caravan lined up, carts and horses full of basic provisions, and very little of the villagers personal belongings. Galahad was trotting back and forth, hands clenching the reins anxiously. It had started snowing, he noticed with a shiver. It was not so cold that it bothered Galahad, even with his thighs bare, but it would make things slightly more difficult if it were to continue. He looked around the valley, seeing the miserable weather extending as far as he could see.

Hearing a single horse riding up behind him, he turned to look towards where the caravan was forming, feeling his stomach clench uncomfortably when he saw Tristan galloping past the villagers. Galahad made eye contact with the scout as he came to a slower trot as he passed Galahad and Lancelot. This was the first time he had seen him since the previous night, and he just barely managed to quell the flush that threatened to rise. He saw the scouts' eyes travel down, resting on his neck just briefly as he nodded at him seemingly in greeting. Galahad saw the barest of smirks before the scout turned and nodded towards Lancelot, then continued on to report to their commander. Galahad coughed, pulling the cloak tighter around him, positioning it more securely around his neck.

He observed Tristan and Arthur from the corner of his eye as the scout relayed his report, nodding in different directions as he spoke. Galahad saw a look of minor disbelief on Tristan, followed by a rueful smile and a small shake of the head. Before Arthur responded, they sat up straight. The sound of distant war drums echoed off the valley, bringing the entire village to a brienf stand still before they all clamored faster to get ready to leave.

"Get back to work!" Galahad looked towards the bark of the guards and immediately looked back at Arthur. Of course, the man was drawing his sword and heading towards a strange black structure that was being walled shut. Seeing the other knights head towards the same place, Galahad did as well, riding up beside Tristan and not meeting his eyes as they came to Arthurs' side.

"Arthur we have no time." Lancelot pressed, watching his best friend contemplate. Arthur didn't even respond.

"Don't you hear the drums?" Galahad added, as if it weren't obvious. Arthur ignored him as well, turning and instead addressing Dagonet. Galahad let out a huff and watched as Dagonet tore down the newly built wall bit by bit. It didn't take long, soon revealing a wooden door.

"Key."

"It is locked." Answered one of the guards. A pause. "..From the inside." He added under Arthurs' glare.

It didn't take long for Dagonet to break that in too, and Galahad looked away, not even wanting to know what was inside. Instead he watched Arthur, Lancelot, Dagonet and then Gawain file into the dark building, leaving Galahad outside with Bors, Tristan and everyone else. Tristan drew his sword, staring pointedly at a guard who stood between he and Galahad. Teh guard sputtered, backing away before he turned and fled to the other guards. Galahad looked at Tristan, who just chuckled in response. He looked over at Bors, who was complaining atop his horse.

"Bloody Arthur, always the fucking hero." Bors spat, though without conviction. They all knew it was Arthurs' way. Galahad watched Bors ride a ways away, harassing the guards who would harass the villagers. A particular cold gust of wind surprised Galahad, sending a shiver through his body as he tightened his cloak. It _was_ going to get colder, he realized with dismay. he really hated wearing breeches, it was much easier to move in a tunic and short pants.

"Cold?"

Galahad looked up, seeing Tristans' horse right beside him, and felt Tristans' leg against his own. "No. Not really." He said. It wasn't a complete lie; he was a little cold. But it didn't bother him. "The cold doesn't bother me."

"You should be prepared, in any case. While I was scouting I ran into areas quite heavy with snow." Tristan responded. A smile, showing the barest hints of slightly pointed teeth. "Maybe you should get a scarf." He added, eyes fixed on the bruises that were just a little higher than the cloak could reach without looking obvious. "Then again..." He added, eyes meeting Galahads. "Maybe you shouldn't."

Galahad didn't know how to respond to that, other than his cheeks going red under his beard. He pulled his horse away and looked towards the crypt-like building just as the others emerged. He saw Tristan straighten and pull his horses' reigns, the playful smirk now gone.

Arthur came out first. "Get me some water!" He demanded, quickly but gingerly carrying a body whose bare legs were covered in markings. Dagonet followed with a small blond boy, pale skinned and covered in bruises and sweaty from fever. Gawain brought up the rear, forcing out two men in black robes.

A flask of water was brought by Ganis, one of the villagers. Alecto's mother ran up to the woman in Arthurs' arms as the Roman commander held the flask to the sickly woman's pale lips.

"She is a Woad." Tristan stated. Galahad looked up at the scout briefly when he spoke, and then back at the girl. Noticing her markings, Galahad couldn't help but agree. She continued drinking from the flask, stopping only to cough and gaze at Arthur, taking no notice of everyone else as she passed in and out of consciousness.

The Lord of the Estate stomped up from where he was in the surrounding group, interrupting Arthur while he was talking to the Woad girl. "Stop what you are doing!" The small statured man yelled, cloak closed tightly around his body to shield him from the wind.

  
"What is this madness?" Arthur demanded.

"They are all Pagans here!" The Lord exclaimed, waving his arms as if that should have explained everything. Galahad fumed.

"Well so are we." He spat, glaring at the offending man with annoyance. His comment went unnoticed by the Lord, who just continued trying to validate his cruelty. Galahad was about to punch him himself when the man slapped his wife. Galahad had to supress a snicker when Arthur punched him in the face, sending him reeling and onto his back in the frosty grass. Galahad could barely hear the threats coming from Arthur as he held his sword to the man's throat, but he could tell that he was serious.

"I was willing to die with them." A morose voice said after a second of silence. Galahad looked at the greasy, dirty priest that Gawain was still standing behind. "Yes... To lead them to their rightful place..." A brief pause, "It is God's wish that these sinners be sacrificed." He didn't skip a beat as Arthur turned his head from the Lord and looked at him. "Only then can their souls be saved." He finished, looking Arthur directly in the eye as the commander stared him down. There was barely a pause before Arthur spoke once more.

"Then I shall grant His wish." the dark haired Roman looked towards his men. "Wall them back up." Galahads' eyes widened, and he looked at Gawain, who was just as shocked as he was, then Tristan as he spoke.

"Arthur." The scout pressed, the drums having grown louder in the distance.

" _I SAID WALL THEM UP!_ "

Galahad watched Tristan bow his head, before roughly tugging on the reins of his horse and moving. Galahad was torn between watching the villagers shove the priests into the crypt, and watching Tristan ride. It wasn't often you could see Tristan _mad_ but he was rather irritated at that moment.

He chose the latter, moving away from the rabble in a seemingly aimless pattern, though all he was doing was watching Tristan. The elder was a ways away, still atop his horse, slicing bits off of yet another apple. Galahad looked around, feeling slightly awkward. Bors was helping Dagonet with loading the boy onto a wagon, Gawain and Lancelot were overseeing the villagers walling up the crypt, and Arthur was taking care of the Woad girl. He sighed, before forcing himself to head towards Tristan. Just because of their little encounter doesn't meant that Galahad can't still just have a normal conversation with him, like before, right?

"Arthur's a little more...vengeful than normal, today, isn't he?" Galahad commented, drawing the eyes of the other knight. Tristan looked over to where Arthur was helping the Woad into the same wagon as the boy and sneered.

"They'll never make it. _We'll_ never make it." He muttered pessimistically, slicing the apple a little more roughly than necessary.

Galahad was slightly taken aback by how pissed off Tristan really was. "You do not approve of the villagers?" He inquired, though he knew the answer before he got the pointed stare. He held up his hands. "What can you do? It's Arthur. He would have done this with any village." He said, watching as the villagers worked at the wall It would be a little while before they finished.

"Yeah." Was the only response.

Galahad sighed. "Well aren't you cheery." He muttered, scratching his beard as he gave a Tristan a glance. The man was looking at the villagers, seething. Galahad wondered if there was _anything_ that would make the scout a little less pissed off. They spent a few minutes in silence, Tristan pissed and Galahad wondering how to fix that in the short amount of time they had. All that kept coming to mind was last night. HE gave a frustrated huff, cheeks red. Well he didn't even know _how_ to go about offering _that_.

"What are you thinking about?" Came Tristans' voice through his thoughts. Galahad looked up, meeting the raised brow of the scout.

"Wh-.. Huh?"

"What are you thinking about?" He asked again, offering no elaboration.

Galahad hesitated. "Trying to think of a way to make you feel better." He said honestly, looking at Tristan as he did.

Tristan looked surprised, or at least, as surprised as Tristan could look. "Make me feel better, hm?" He reiterated, earning a nod of curly brown hair. "And what were you thinking of doing, that's got your face so red, eh?" He asked, a slow grin crawling onto his face.

Galahad blinked and flushed scarlet, turning to look at he villagers. He didn't say anything for a moment, before sighing, breaking under the heavy scrutiny of the scout. "I don't know, alright? I was thinking, maybe, I could return.. God. The favor from.." He avoided eye contact as he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in his horse, After a moment of silence he started to speak. "Look, I was just k-"

"Sure."

"...Huh?"

"I am accepting your offer. You thought right; it _would_ make me feel better." He said lowly, licking his lips and causing Galahad to squirm. The young knight looked around nervously, seeing the wall over just half done, and Bors and Dagonet talking by the wagon the boy now slept fitfully in. Tristan followed his gaze. "Come on. This way. We need to be quick." Tristan was already trotting away on the horse, expecting, no, _knowing_ that Galahad would follow.

And he did. He followed the scout around the estate, looking around a lot more paranoid than the relaxed scout ahead of him.

"There are hardly any villagers here normally." Tristan said, shocking Galahad to attention. He hadn't explored much, but he assumed Tristan had taken a look at the estate while scouting, so he followed him closely. Soon they came around to a stable, finding no horses tied up. There had been horses before, meaning the villagers were probably done with this stable for good. Galahad watched as Tristan slipped off of the horse, pausing to look up at the young knight. He glanced down, eyeing Galahad still exposed thighs. "You _sure_ you're not cold?" He grinned, turning to lead the horse to tie her up. Galahad only briefly hesitated before he did the same, sliding off the horse.

He reached the post where Tristan had tied up his mare, and did the same with his own horse. "Not really... I told you, the cold doesn't bother me." He said, a little more snarky than he meant to. Must have just been nerves.

"Then you won't mind doing it outside." Tristan said, before suddenly grabbing Galahads' wrist, shocking the young knight with his sudden touch. Suddenly they were outside and Galahad was almost blinded by the wild flakes.

"Wait-" He was interrupted by being pushed against the wall of the back of the stable. He shivered as a gust of snow and wind drew his cloak away from his legs, and then looked up to glare at the elder. He saw the challenge in his warm brown eyes and he lifted his chin. "I don't mind." He answered, sucking in a breath as the scout pressed close to him. He was trapped, one of Tristans' hands at the back of his neck, the other pinning one of his own next to his head.

"Good." He responded, and Galahad felt that calloused hand slip from his neck into his hair. "Ahh-! Shit.. " Galahad shivered as Tristans' hand tightened into the curls, pulling his head back. "Fuck.. " He felt Tristans' familiar warm lips attach to his throat. Small nips were littered across his skin, none marking. "Wh-what is it with you and biting- _ouch_!" Galahad suppressed a moan when Tristan bit down harder with a deep chuckle.

"Sorry, pup." He could feel the other smirking, and felt heat pool in his loins. He let out a hiss when Tristan started laving the bruise with his tongue before he latched onto it and started sucking.

"Fucking- _don't leave more marks Tris- **AH!**_ " Galahad bit down on his lower lip to hold back his moan as sharp teeth sank into his shoulder, breaking the skin. Galahad trembled, unable to hold back the shaky moan as he felt Tristan lap up the small beads of blood. Galahad was already panting slightly and all Tristan had done was _bite_ him. _Injure_ him. He felt a solid thigh press between his legs, splitting them and bunching his skirt up in the middle, causing him let out a gasp. "I-I'm supposed to be... helping _y-you_ feel bet- _oh god_..-" Galahad grasped at the back of Tristans shoulder with his free hand, his back arching as Tristan roughly ground his thigh against him.

"Don't worry. You _are_ making me feel better." He felt Tristans' rough beard as he spoke against his neck, feeling him kiss almost gently before he felt the sharp sting of teeth into the juncture of his neck followed by the pressure of his thigh between his legs. He didn't feel the skin break this time, but he knew there would be more bruises. Galahad could feel the others growing erection against his hip, and he shuddered. Well at least he wasn't the only one getting turned on by this.

The young knight could hear the drums in the distance, and it only set his blood ablaze more. This really was not an appropriate time, _nor_ place do be doing anything of this sort, yet he couldn't bring himself to care as his neck became littered with both large and small bruises. He would be irritated about that later, too. Instead of complaining, instead of stopping like he should have, he just slid his free hand into Tristans' silvery braids, giving a sharp pull on them. It was all he could do for retaliation in his position. He felt Tristan growl against his neck and he let out a small breath in response. He liked that noise. He wanted to hear it again. So he moved without thinking, bending his head slightly to sink his teeth into the tanned skin of the scout's neck, not stopping until he drew blood.

"You insolent little _brat_." Tristans' deep voice rumbled through his throat, vibrating against Galahads' lips. He shivered and took a tentative lick of the bruising area, tasting the others coppery blood once more. This time, though, he wasn't attacking Tristan. He felt a small shiver go through the elder, followed by a small groan as Galahad continued to bite and suck at his neck. Tristans' head tilted back slightly, his quest of marking Galahad momentarily forgotten.

Galahad used the opportunity to pull his hand free from Tristans', instead wrapping both around the taller mans' neck. He used the others surprise to his advantage, spinning them and forcing Tristan into the wall. He looked up at him smugly, and gave his hips a small grind against the thigh that was still between his legs and letting out a soft moan. He coudn't help but shiver, both because he was now more exposed to the biting wind, and because of the deeply satisfied smirk Tristan now wore. Large arms wrapped loosely around his waist, hands playing with the hem of the bunched tunic. Galahad pressed himself against the length of Tristans' body in response, cheeks red from both heat and cold.

"Are you cold yet, little one?" He felt Tristans' lips against his ear and he shivered, but was unable to decide whether it was from Tristan himself, or the biting gust of snowy wind that he felt on parts he normally didn't feel it on. He flushed red, unable to even fathom the embarrassment of someone finding him like that, ass exposed to the world and Tristan, not giving a damn.

"...Maybe a little.." He answered honestly, shifting his hips once more and moaning softly. "Y-you win.. Can we go inside now?" He breathed, goosebumps having risen all over. Though, this time, it may be more from what he was saying instead of the cold. Suddenly the world was shifting, and he grabbed tightly onto Tristan for support. "Jesus- _Tristan-_ What are!" He yelped as he was lifted, and he wrapped his legs around Tristans' waist for leverage. This pleased the elder man, who easily carried him inside the stable.

It was no warmer under the cover of the stable than it was outside, but at least there was less wind and snow. Galahad let out a surprised huff as he was pushed against another wall. He let his legs go slack, and they slowly fell from Tristans' waist. Tristans' hands, which had been holding him by his ass, remained where they were, kneading the mounds of flesh in his hands as Galahad stood. The younger knight felt a little more brave now, but still was unable to meet the others eyes. Instead he looked down and reached for his tanned breeches, fumbling with the front laces. His fingers brushed the bulge under the fabric and he felt Tristan stiffen slightly. He paused his attempts at untying the laces to just palm the elder man through the fabric, delighting when he rolled his hips forward into his hand.

"It doesn't bite, darling." Tristan chuckled into his ear, causing Galahad to let out a breathy moan as his teeth caught the lobe and bit lightly.

"I _know_ that." He muttered, palming the hard flesh a few more times before he undid the laces. He swallowed thickly, hand tentatively reaching between the folds and feeling the shockingly hot flesh directly under his palm. So Tristan didn't wear undergarments. Of course he didn't. Galahads' cheeks were flushed, breath coming in short excited gasps as he pulled Tristans' member free from its confines, earning a shiver from the older man. The heated flesh was smooth in his hand, almost familiar, but then completely different. It was longer than his own, a bit thicker too. There were already a few beads of precum, and Galahad curiousy swiped them, looking up at Tristan with a flush on his cheeks and licking his thumb.

"On your knees, pup." Tristan said, voice thick with arousal. Galahad blinked as he was guided to his knees. Tristan leaned against the wall where he had been, and Galahad looked up at him, eyes wide.

"I-Ive never-" He tried to stand, but was stopped by a large, persistent hand slipping into his hair.

"Practice makes perfect, pup. You didn't always know how to use a bow, did you?" He grinned, braids framing his face as he looked down at the young knight. "Just do what you think would be best. But no teeth." He warned, earning him a small smile from Galahad despite his anxiousness.

Galahad swallowed and straightened his back slightly, lifting a hand to the hard flesh that was now just about eye level with him. He glanced up at Tristan one more time, flushing at just how obscene this was, before he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the tip, his little pink tongue darting out to swirl slowly around the head. He decided it didn't taste bad, not so much as being nearly flavorless. The grunt he received in response spurred him on, straightening a little more as he took more into his mouth.

"I'm not sure I believe you're pure. Who have you practiced on... Gawain?" Tristan teased, though he knew it not to be true, and Galahad felt his other hand join the first in his hair, fingers threading through the silky brown curls. Galahad snorted, letting his teeth just barely graze the skin before he sucked and pulled his mouth off.

"You don't seem to be in a position to talk to me like that, _sir_." He quoted the scout, licking from the base to the tip as he looked up at the scout. He received groan in response, and a light tug of his hair.

"Cheeky boy."

Galahad didn't respond, instead deciding to take his task a little more seriously. He once more took Tristan's cock into his mouth, starting a tentative rhythm of bobbing his head. Galahad was not so naive as to not know how a basic blow job would work, although he had imagined himself being on the receiving end of it. He relaxed his throat, allowing him to take as much as he could, which still was not quite all of him, but still a substantial amount. He found a good alternation of bobbing and sucking that seemed to please Tristan, his hands tightening in his hair every time he did something that felt particularily good. He didn't make much noise, but he didn't have to. Galahad could figure out what he liked. He braced his hands on the back of Tristans' thighs , feeling the hands grow tighter in his hair.

"Such a quick learner, pup. Hn.." He let out a soft grunt as Galahad moaned around his cock, sending vibrations up the shaft. "Good boy." He murmured, hand brushing his curls out of his face so he could see him. Galahad averted his eyes, instead closing them and swirling his tongue along the sides of his shaft whenever he could. Galahad was enjoying _this_ far more than he should have been. He held onto the back of Tristans' thigh with one hand, the other going down to relieve some of the pressure for himself. He moaned more as his hand wrapped around, stroking in time to the bobs of his head. Soon, Tristan was more guiding his head, fucking into his mouth as Galahad whimpered and moaned and nearly forgot to breathe. Tristan was forcing more than he had taken on his own, nearly causing him to gag with each thrust, though he managed to relax his throat enough to avoid it. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes as he stroked himself more desperately.

He could hear the drums slightly louder now. They had to almost be done the wall. He moaned around his cock as Tristan let out a deep, rumbling groan, giving one more final thrust into Galahads mouth before he came. Galahad swallowed all he could, managing to get most of it, only a few drips escaping onto his beard. He gave a few last sucks, sending a few shivers through Tristans' form, before he pulled off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He flushed as Tristan looked down at him, watching him as he continued to kneel and stroke himself, small moans falling from his lips. Then he looked up, and needy blue eyes met with brown.

"P- _please_ Tristan..-" He started, only to be hauled up and pulled against the elders' chest, back into the position they had been in outside, with Tristan's thigh between Galahads' this time rubbing against his bare cock. Galahad felt Tristans' hands link loosely in the small of his back.

"Please _what_ , darling?" Tristan murmured, holding the smaller man tightly against him.

"Fucking _touch me_ or something!" He growled, hands sliding into Tristans' hair and pulling insistently as he rocked against his thigh. He just got a chuckle in response, the silvery head ducking down to press light kisses across a scruffy jaw line. Then tehy were turned around, his own back against the wall and Tristans' face in front of his own, their lips inches apart like they had been before they had been interrupted. Galahad swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Before Tristan could even move, Galahad leaned up on his toes, pressing their lips together. Tristan growled, one hand moving from the small of Galahads' back to the back of his neck to hold him in place.

Galahad decided that he really, _really_ liked it when Tristan made noise. It was not as frequent as Galahad, who had whimpered softly at just the touch of their lips, but when it did happen, it would send a jolt of heat through the young knights' body. He opened his mouth , tongue darting out to meet with Tristans' as the kiss became more passionate. He felt braids tickling his face as he tilted his head, allowing the other to deepen the kiss. They fought for dominance, but Tristan easily won, forcing his tongue into the youngers' mouth and rubbing it sensuously against his.

They must have kissed for a few minutes, because suddenly Galahad realized _he needed to breathe_ , and he broke the kiss, pulling back slightly and gasping for air. "Breathe through your nose, pup." He didn't get the chance to reply, as Tristans' mouth eagerly followed his, easily dominating the kiss over a panting Galahad. Hands tightened in Tristans' hair, but Galahad couldn't pull away. The back of his head was right against the wall now, and Tristans' hand easily held him in place.

He barely got enough air as he panted through his nose, his moans being swallowed as the elder refused to let him go. Finally, only when Galahad was nearly limp in his arms, did he pull away, grinning down at his prize. Both hands dropped to his ass suddenly, giving it a quick squeeze before sliding his hands up and bringing the tunic with it. He stopped only when he couldn't push it any higher due to the belt. "Hold it up." Tristan said, confusing the still panting Galahad. After a moment he nodded, grabbing the dark fabric in his shaky hands and holding it up. He was exposed from just below the belly button, and he was very much aware of Tristans' eyes on him. Then the scout was on his knees, much like Galahad had been earlier. As in the forest, his subligalcum was discarded. Galahad would be damned if he forgot it again, so he made a mental note of where it fell.

Galahad flushed scarlet as he watched the elder, who seemed to be admiring Galahads' young, lean body. "T-tris-" He bit his lip, gasping as large hands landed on his ribs, trailing slowly down his sides until they came to his ass. Thin lips landed on his left hip, biting down into the soft, pale flesh there. "F-Fuck-" Galahad felt his legs shaking already, his cock so hard he felt like he was going to cry is Tristan didn't fucking _touch_ him soon. But Tristan seemed to avoid everywhere but there, sliding his hands over his ass, thighs, calves and then back up again. He gasped when the other nosed the thin dusting trail of hair down his pelvis, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other on the back of his head with his fingers threaded through the braids. "P- _please_ Tristan.." He insisted, leaning into the mouth that was nipping his skin, leaving small bruises with some of the bites.

Maybe it was because he asked so nicely, he would have to remember to try that again in the future, but Tristan finally moved to where the young knight wanted him. He trembled in anticipation, feeling the others hot breath over his skin. Then suddenly he was almost completely engulfed in heat, causing Galahads' eyes to go wide in shock. He let out a strangled cry at the sudden, moist contact, nearly crumpling in on himself. There was no more teasing now, Tristan was relentless in the pleasure he gave Galahad. He knew what hew as doing with his tongue, the appendage swirling and twisting around his cock in just the right spots as his mouth moved up and down nearly the whole length. Tristans' name fell from Galahads' lips like a mantra, interrupted only by the desperate, keening moans whenever Tristan did _that_ with his tongue.

Time seemed to stand still at that point, and not even the drums mattered. Not even sound of distant hooves mattered. His breath came in such short pants as Tristan bobbed his head in a smooth, rhythmic fashion that Galahad was sure he was about to pass out.

He knew he wasn't going to last long, that was for sure. He could feel that familiar pressure building up with much more speed and intensity than he could have ever done for himself. "T-Tris... I can't-" He bit down on the back of his hand, not even noticing the skin break as his climax shook his entire body. He let go of his wrist, lips slightly bloodied as he opened his mouth in a silent cry, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Tristan didn't stop bobbing his head until Galahad was soft, and then he let go with a soft, wet _plop_. Galahad would have been embarassed by how obscene it all was, if he weren't so busy trying to catch his breath.

He wanted to look away too, when Tristan pulled off, but when he made eye contact with him, he couldn't. He watched the other swallow it all, before he stood and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You can fix your tunic if you want. I don't mind." He said, and Galahad flushed, smoothing out the tunic and grabbing his subligalcum so it wouldn't be forgotten. "We should get going, they've already left." Tristan said as he fixed himself, tucking himself back in and fixing his clothes.

Galahad was in the middle of fixing his cloak when he spoke, and he blinked. "What do you mean, how do you know?" He asked, raising a brow. He grimaced as his neck and shoulders throbbed and stung from the recent attack they endured.

"Call it a guess." Tristan said with a sly smile.

"I don't believe you. They would have come looking for us. I bet they're still there."

"Oh, sure. Let's bet."

"Fine. You win, I'll owe you one." Galahad said, causing Tristan to raise a brow. "I win, you owe me one."

"Owe me one?" He asked.

"Yeah." Galahad didn't elaborate any farther.

Tristan paused for a moment before just chuckling. "Sure. Sounds like a bet." He said, as he walked over to his mare. He untied both, holding out the reins to Galahad as he came up. The young knight nodded in thanks, moving to mount the horse. He gasped when he felt Tristans' big hands easily help him up, and he flushed.

"I could have done it."

"You would have fallen right over."

Galahad didn't argue that point, as he got comfortable on his horse. He rode silently for the next few minutes beside Tristan as they headed back. "You... aren't gonna.. you know, cover those?" He asked, gesturing to his neck as he looked at Tristan. He had marked the scout pretty bad too, but not nearly as bad as the scout had marked him.

"Should I?"

Galahad opened his mouth, silent for a second before shrugging. "I suppose it does not matter." He murmured, cheeks flushed a little. Well, in Tristans' defense, Galahad had _intentionally_ marked high on the throat where it couldn't be covered. They soon came around the corner where their party and the villagers had been.

Had.

They were gone now. Not even pausing, the two headed towards the east, where the others were going. Galahad sighed as he heard Tristan chuckle, knowing what was coming.

"Looks like you owe me one."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos is candy! Thank you for reading!


	3. Just a note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I know I suck okay

Hey everyone, I am so sorry about not updating in. .. Like 6 months... But my computer done fucked itself this summer and I have had nothing to write with. I'm never gonna give up this story, in determined to finish it. I have means to type now, so you guys can probably expect a chapter up soon :) I'm almost done this next one. Stay tuned !


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